


An Old, But Not Forgotten Friend.

by avskogen



Series: For Good Luck [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Also the one where we introduce a new character, BIG AU my dudes., But also, Gen, Middle Earth, Multi, Spoilers to The Hobbit and film, The Hobbit - Freeform, The Hobbit AU, The one where we create some backstory for the Durinsons, and where we might keep a certain someone alive for plot purposes in another fic, come one come all to my trashfire of a verse, if you're reading this you either already know or you don't care so welcome, that i can never seem to give up on, that may or may not be incorporated later......, we JUST DON'T KNOW WHERE THINGS MIGHT TAKE US!!! IT'S AN ADVENTURE!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 19:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21185150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avskogen/pseuds/avskogen
Summary: Their King has called on them. The time has come to reclaim their homeland, to take back what belongs to their people. Before Fíli and Kíli head out on a journey to Khazad-dûm to meet the rest of their party at a certain Hobbit's hole, they try to convince a certain dwarf to come along.





	An Old, But Not Forgotten Friend.

**Author's Note:**

> This contains major plot spoilers to The Hobbit novel. It was written just before The Desolation of Smaug film came out, so not necessarily spoilers there. As far as this story is concerned, everything leading up to the DoS is canon. Minus the part before the The Hobbit actually begins, which is what this first part is for. It's a little prequel of sorts. 
> 
> **Disclaimer** I do not claim the canonical characters in this story as my own. I do not claim the locations mentioned in this story as my own. Any aspects of what you might recognize from other works are coincidental and solely for entertainment purposes only.

The day had begun as days always began; with work. The long and high halls of ruined Nogrod were brought to life with the sound of hundreds of pick-axes on stone, sweet and sad hymns filling the dusty air. Stali never minded the work. His tasks were always centered around smithing, something he considered to be far more enjoyable than mining or reconstructing -- which were tedious at best. He was a crafter that loved his craft. It was art and a skill that he treasured more than any gem; though he would never say that aloud. Only six and forty years of age with what was hardly considered as a beard, Stali scarcely knew much else. Everything he knew of what used to be Nogrod and Belegost were told by gruff and bitter Firebeards and the occasional Durin’s Folk passerby, nearly all of them fifty his elder. Nonetheless, as a young Dwarf, he felt entitled to help restore what was left of his father’s and his father’s father’s home. After all, where would he and his people go if not back to Mount Dolmed? Other than that, he questioned little and thankfully, he always had those in his company that would visit once and awhile, bringing light and mischief to the long periods alone. Even so, it was no matter. 

Stali was quite comfortable in his solitude. During the weeks and months where the demand for his services were close to naught, when he and the other Dwarves of what was left of his clan resided in the eastern hills of Ered Luin, he focused on combat with the most skilled veterans to war. He viewed combat as the wife to his talent in weaponry-making, loving it just as much. _The maker of an axe should always know what it’s like to swing it proper,_ the old master-at-arms had reiterated time and time again. 

That day, he was attending to one of his first attempts at a lighter arrowhead that was thrice as sharp as any other. Each side was to be slightly hollowed using a fine pick-axe so that one day, once the arrow was lodged into any Dwarf’s foe, poison stored in the arrowhead would seep out and into the flesh. Stali did not know when or if he would ever get the opportunity to use any in battle himself, but he knew that if he were successful, the arrowheads would be worth quite the coin. As he brought his hammer onto glowing red-orange metal, his ears picked up on some erratic chatter just around the corner of the roomy firelit chamber. There were only two voices; two voices he knew all too well. Eyes narrowing in amusement, he plunged the arrowhead into a bucket of water just as two Dwarves strode into view. One was a brunette, just thirty years his elder and the other was a bit older with a long blonde mane. 

“The both of you -- You’re leaving so soon? Where to?”

Fili gave a quick, uneasy glance about them, as if he weren’t sure if it were proper that he was saying anything at all. “We’re not just leaving Tumunzahar,” he answered cautiously. “Nor are we just leaving the Ered Luin. We’re venturing far from Beleriand.” There was a long pause among the three dwarves, save for the sound of distant hammering and the faint tinkering noises that came from collapsed chambers higher up in the mountain. When Stali arched a skeptical brow, Kili cleared his throat.

“It’ll be a long journey,” the brunette Dwarf supplied with an easy smile. “In Khazad-dûm. I think it’s called the Shire.”

His words were spoken carefully, as if he could not yet fathom what his ears were hearing. “Where in the name of Mahal is _the Shire?”_ Stali placed his hammer onto the stone table and nudged the warm arrowhead into a bucket of water. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one worn boot to the other, uncomfortable. Glancing up at the two brothers he had known for so long, it was as if a flame had suddenly ignited out of the dark. “You’re joining Thorin’s company,” he stated. 

“You’re welcome to join us, brother.” Fili spread his hands out and smiled. “You might be young, but you’re a Skulison. Thorin has tried--”

“--Ay, to convince the Firebeards to join him on his journey, I know. Us, along with all the other clans he could find. And the answer was still no.” 

“It’s not just _his_ journey,” the eldest Dwarf took a step towards Stali and drew in a measured breath. “It’s for all of us. And you know it’s more than just a journey. If you heard what Thorin said, then it’s only the truth. It’s time for us to take back the Lonely Mountain. For _all of us.”_

“Think of,” Kili piped up quickly. “the glory. Defeating Smaug and restoring our rightful kingdom! Erebor is ours, it has always been ours. We need only take it. There aren’t many of us who are willing to take that chance and you know it.”

Stali shook his head and wiped a hand over his face, disbelief written all over his bold features. “Last I heard, there were half a dozen who volunteered their lives for that suicide mission. Now you’re telling me you’re joining them?” he demanded, straining to keep his voice low. 

“You’re just as close to us as we are to you.” Kili grasped his friend’s shoulder and Fili did the same. “Aulë wouldn’t want our people to sit by and watch as our home has turned to ruin. How could you not believe the same? He would want us to fight for the sake of all of us, to bring us together, to unite all of our clans as one to _go home.”_ Both of the brothers wore their utmost earnest looks and though he had always admired and looked up to them for everything, Stali couldn’t bring himself to see what they saw right then. 

“Aulë wouldn’t want us to run straight into our deaths, Kili,” he answered quietly. He shrugged out of their grips and furrowed his brow in dismay as he turned his back on them. Emotions ran wild through him and though his best friends were right there, filled with more hope than he had ever seen them to have, all he wanted right then was to be alone with his thoughts. Stali loved them to be his own brothers. He grew up alongside them and they were his family. He was very near tempted to turn around and accept their offer, despite how he felt about the mission, just so he could protect them from going into harm’s way, after all, he was a Skulison. Skulis protected and defended their own. It was in his blood to do just that. Yet, he didn’t face them. He _couldn’t._ His face burned with shame. 

“We...understand,” Fili’s voice came from behind and a sharp intake of breath sounded, but then the Dwarf muttered, “_No_\--It’s no use.” Stali swallowed, plucked the arrowhead out of the bucket and dried it on a rag.

“You’ll be gone by the morrow, I expect.” He finally spoke, keeping his eyes low. Kili stepped around his friend and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Ay -- That’s what the Grey Wizard had instructed. Whatever he has planned, he sounded sure. It’s going to work.” the brunette Dwarf answered calmly, as if the last few moments had never happened. If anything, he sounded defensive, which sent dozens of sharp stabs shooting through Stali’s insides. 

“Try not to forget your arrows this time, brother.” Somehow, Stali managed to crack a smile and nodded at the finished products sitting in a woven basket by the fire. “You_ might _need them.”

––

“It’s name is_ Eirdís,_ Kili. Fili, your’s is_ Hallvarðr.”_

At the mention of such a word, the brunette dwarf’s surprised expression transformed into amazement. Folding the arm’s length strip of dark red fabric over his hands, Kili gave a short laugh and nudged his longtime friend with a genuine smile. “You burned The Way into this?” 

The blacksmith dwarf had spent half his night burning the map of the surrounding area around of the Misty Mountains into the fabric as well as the known caves and tunnels the dwarves had recreated under the mountain. When brought together, the two strips made a full map; not that Kili and Fili would ever _truly _lose their way on the way back. 

Stali tilted his head to admire his handiwork and glanced at Fili as he spoke. “So you would always find your way home. So if you ever came close to losing all hope, you would think of us and retrieve that hope once again. _Both of you,_” He drew in a slow breath and clasped a hand on each of their shoulders as they all stood together. His chest swelled with an emotion he hardly ever showed as he looked the two straight in the face. “Both of you will return and you shall tell me of how you helped slay that bloody dragon. That is the only thing I ask of you.” 

If anything was for certain, Stali Skulison would never forget the bright, grateful and sad smiles that shone on his brothers’ faces before they finally turned away, heading into a completely new world. 

He’d never forget the warmth and fear he himself felt in that last moment with them––especially the day he learned of their deaths. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this three-part concept in my head for years, and I've desperately wanted to finish it, so I'm hoping that if I actually post them on here, I'll have more motivation to finish part three. 
> 
> I'll never forget how **shook** I was when I watched DoS and Kíli did the thing with the stone because I was like BRUH I DID A THING WITH AN ARMBAND it was a whole thing. Anyways,,,,,
> 
> Part two is coming soon and takes place in Tauriel's POV, and _not necessarily the same Tauriel in the films._ ;)
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♡


End file.
